Dark and Dangerous
by AlternateOla
Summary: "You've always loved women dark and dangerous - yet if they do something dark and dangerous you can't love them, and therefore you've never really loved any woman at all." [Bruce/Diana]


_A/N: Hey there you wonderful person! Yeah you, over there! Are you a comic book fan? Because if you are you might want to avert your eyes round about now ._

 _This one-shot is entirely based on the movie (that spicy scene with Wonder Woman and Batman) and what could've happened between them. It's probably quite OOC and it's definitely PWP, so proceed with caution if that isn't your cup of tea!_

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Bruce pretends (really well) that he's completely fine, but after what just happened to him Diana knows there's no way that he is. She doesn't feel pity for him, and she knows he'd hate her if she did, but she feels his pain. He is just a mortal man; there's nothing super to him while Kal-El is just that. _Superman_.

Almost silently she walks into his room and eyes the glaring purple bruises already well-formed on his lower back. He grunts in pain, letting the black fabric of his suit fall back down, and sits on the bed heavily. His arm looks strange, out of place, and she knows immediately what's wrong.

"Wait, let me." She's by his side before she knows it, holding his dislocated arm in a gentle but firm grip. He doesn't seem surprised to see her; maybe he knew she'd come all along or maybe he's just too exhausted to care.

"So, Clark seemed to share your view on being woken up." He means it as a joke, but she doesn't find it funny. Kal-El was out of control, confused and lost and so incredibly _dangerous_. It was understandable really, considering he'd just come back from the dead, but that didn't change the fact that if Lois Lane hadn't arrived when she did, Bruce probably wouldn't be here to crack those unfunny jokes.

"He could've killed you." Diana says, subdued anger in her voice, and she means it. Bruce doesn't bite, and brushes her off by muttering something about being willing to make the trade.

Suddenly she doesn't want to hear any more.

His joint cracks unpleasantly as she pops it back in place with no warning. She winces, though now it's not just his pain that's upsetting to her. It's the knowledge that he, this mortal man, is ready to die so that Superman can take his place.

Bruce gets up, stretching out his sore arm, and heads straight for the bottle of whiskey. She'd stop him, she doesn't want him indulging in bad habits at a time like this, but she knows that he needs this. Instead she watches him, every minute move, every ripple of muscle under his skin tight top. It's enthralling really because there's something so masculine about him, and in a completely different way than any superhuman she'd ever known. In fact, it's his fragile humanity that's so appealing to her, she concludes. She wants to look after him, she wants to be there for him, wants to save him.

 _Wants to fuck him._

The thought passes through her mind so quickly she almost doesn't acknowledge it, but there's no mistaking the warm blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck. She can't control the images flooding her head now, Bruce undressing her, caressing her, on top of her, _oh, oh..._

"Diana? Diana!" She blinks rapidly, attempting to clear her mind and cursing herself for her carelessness. "You're flushed, are you okay?" She most certainly is not okay, not with him standing so close to her, too close, some whiskey still glistening on his lips. She takes a deep breath which turns out to be a mistake, because she inhales _everything_. Black coffee, woodchips, something musky and inherently _Bruce_. Her eyes hungrily take in a single bead of sweat that rolls down his clavicle.

"I am fine." Her voice is low, too low, and she knows she's giving her predicament away. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Bruce is not much taller than her, but right now it feels like he's towering and dwarfing her, his dark eyes drilling holes into hers.

For a moment, all is still. Bruce is looking into her soul, unblinking and so, so _ravenous_. Then within seconds his arm shoots out and wraps itself tightly around her waist. He pulls her into his chest, and despite having so many chances to stop him she lets him hold her in place. Her face is inches away from his; they're both breathing heavy.

"I want you, Diana." It's such a simple statement, the most straightforward thing he can say, but it sends her into a frenzy. She can't control herself anymore, she doesn't think she wants to, and she pulls his face towards her assertively until their lips meet.

Their kiss is surprisingly soft at first, gentle and probing. Bruce's hands squeeze her waist a little tighter, then travel all over her back, caressing and mapping every dip and bump. She throws her hands around his neck subconsciously, letting his thick, dark hair slip through her fingers. It's exquisite really, what he's doing to her with just his mouth, and she finds herself wondering what else his mouth can do. Her blush deepens, and Bruce's rumbling chuckle gets swallowed by the delicate skin of her neck. He nips and suckles, leaving dark marks, and deftly unclasps her breastplate. It clatters to the floor with a loud bang, but she barely registers it because he's moved on to her chest now and _oh lord_ it's better than she could have ever imagined.

His tongue licks around the dusky tips of her breasts, and he takes one hard nipple between his teeth, making her back arch with pleasure. His other hand doesn't remain idle, kneading and pinching and rolling, and it's all she can do to even stay upright. She feels the soft leather of her skirt pool around her ankles and she wastes no time in wrapping her naked legs around Bruce in one graceful move. He grunts a little, a small grimace of pain on his face, but then that's all forgotten when she presses a heated kiss to his lips. He understands her urgency and probably feels it as well, because he throws her unceremoniously on the bed and almost rips his shirt apart trying to take it off. She busies herself with her gauntlets in the meantime, fingers shaking with anticipation.

"Diana." Bruce murmurs, looking down on her rosy face and deliciously naked body. She looks like an angel, illuminated by the light streaming in from the window, black hair spread around her head like a shadowy halo. Her pale lips are parted and she's breathing heavily, her bare chest rising and falling invitingly with each breath. Bruce climbs on top of her gently, taking care to not lean on his injured arm, and lowers himself until he's kissing her again.

The desperation is back immediately. He feels it in every move he makes and every gasp that leaves Diana's lips. She writhes against him as his fingers trace a tickly line between her breasts, over her ribs and across her hips. He doesn't hesitate before brushing her folds, skimming and sketching with his fingertips. She's almost dripping, and just the thought of that wet heat wrapped around his cock makes him groan. She presses her palms against his chest and slides them down, feeling his taut muscles ripple underneath her touch, but before she can reach what she's so _desperate_ to have he grabs her wrists and pins them above her head. She could break out easily, could flip them over in a second and could have him buried in her in two, but she enjoys relinquishing control. She enjoys the feel on Bruce on her, and she knows she would beg him to fuck her if that's what he wanted.

He doesn't say a word though, choosing instead to bury a long digit inside her. She moans loudly at the unexpected intrusion, straining against Bruce's grip on her wrists. He drives his fingers in and out relentlessly, and then his mouth is on her clit and she almost pushes hard enough with her hands to send him flying. He smirks arrogantly in response and adds another finger, curling them _just right._ She unravels with a scream of his name.

Bruce barely lets her recover before she feels his length pressing against her, hard and thick. Her hands are free again and she grips his shoulders as he slides inside her with a low groan, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She moves almost immediately in response, rolling her hips against him impatiently. He kisses away some of the sweat from her collarbone and pulls out completely before thrusting back in, her heat welcoming and accommodating and so, _so_ tight. She lets out a prolonged moan as he sets a fast pace, but matches his every thrust without fail. Her legs once again wrap themselves around his waist, and the change of angle almost brings her to her peak straight away, Bruce's cock hitting every sweet spot possible.

"Bruce," she almost sobs, "please." She doesn't know entirely what she's asking for, but it seems that Bruce does because within seconds she's screaming something incoherent and riding out the waves of her orgasm. Her clenching and spasms seem to push Bruce over the edge too, and he collapses on top of her with a shudder. She feels warm liquid trickle down her thighs and into the sheets.

They stay like that for a while, unmoving and in intimate silence. She strokes his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck, warm and comfortable and _complete_. After a while, she speaks up.

"Don't trade your life for Clark's." She murmurs, and feels him smile.

"I won't."

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 _A/N: There we go, some fluff and other stuff :) I have half a mind to write some more about Wonder Woman and Superman, or maybe even Aquaman. I can just kind of see her with everyone in a way, so perhaps I'll be writing some more lovely lemons soon! Hope you enjoyed, please drop a favourite or a review if you did!_

 _Love,_

 _AlternateOla_


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